Chapter Text
He thought back to June. All he’d decided at that point was that maybe he should go on a diet, lose a few pounds, you know, for health reasons. Yeah, that’s all it was, at first at least, but now, two months later, he was lying on the cold hard floor, face dripping with sweat, because the world went black when he stood. He really shouldn’t be all that surprised, he hadn’t eaten anything in three days and has been in that cycle for a while now. God it just seemed so right when he started, but now it was all so wrong, how did this even happen? Well, all nightmares start as dreams, he supposed. Anyway, he couldn’t just not go to work, there were dying people to save! That meant he had to find some way to heave himself off the floor. (Actually, there’s very rarely an actual case, it’s more like there’s House’s paperwork, House’s clinic duty, and his crossword puzzles to do, but either way he has to go in. Knowing House he’d send Cameron and Foreman to his apartment if he didn’t show, and he can’t let them see this).
Once he finally managed to get out of his room he wondered if he should eat breakfast, but ultimately decided against it, this morning was probably just a fluke, he thought. He put his shoes on, which took a surprising amount of effort, and left for PPTH.
***
“Do you think Chase is ok? He’s never late, don’t you think we should send someone to check up on him?”, Cameron asked, you could hear the concern in her voice but Foreman couldn’t tell how much was genuine worry and how much was her giant saviour complex.
“I’m sure he’s fine”, he replied, “he probably just had so much of a good time last night that it drowned out his kiss-assness”,
Cameron mumbled something in agreement, but she didn’t sound totally sure.
“Hey guys, sorry I’m late, got stuck in traffic”
Foreman looked at him with a sceptical expression on his face, they took the same route to work and there were no problems for him, he brushed it off though, there was probably an accident or something after he’d gotten past the area.
His train of thought was interrupted by Cameron saying something to Chase.
“Oh by the way I bought you a bagel, I thought that if you were running late you probably wouldn’t have eaten anything so i got you something”.
Fuck.
“Oh thanks”, he said, trying to sound as genuine as possible as he took a seat. He drowned out the sounds of Cameron and Foreman talking about the weather or the benefits of different kinds of deodorant or something equally as dull. He wasn’t paying attention as he was too busy studying the bagel in his hands. Sure he hadn’t eaten in three days, but surely this is way too much, especially in one sitting. A bagel with cream cheese, that’s gotta be what? 380 calories? No way he can eat this, but he can’t let them catch on, yes, he’ll feel like shit about it almost immediately if he eats this, but he’d feel worse if they found out. The pity from Cameron, the judgement from Foreman, and from House, well, he wasn’t really sure what House would say or do, but it would inevitably be negative. He took a bite of the bagel, and another, and another, and before he knew it it was gone. It wasn’t too bad, was it? Oh who was he kidding, it felt horrible, the guilt, the feeling that everyone was judging him and that the bagel was just some sort of test to see if he’d eat it or not. Yes, that’s it, he’s a disgusting, greedy pig and now everyone knows, everyone, no one will like him anymore and now-
“Sorry I’ve got to go” he all but shouted as he practically sprinted out the room.
***
He checked all the stalls about three times before actually going in one, he really couldn’t have anyone in there right now, this won’t be pretty. He kneeled down in front of the toilet, he could stop at any point, really, but he couldn’t, it doesn’t work like that. He could hear his subconscious screaming, but conscious thought was louder, his knees were in agony from supporting his weight on the tile floor, its a side affect of having barely any body fat, he supposed. Anyway, he’d better get on with it before someone gets suspicious.
His fingers were just about to reach his tonsils when he heard the door open, and the unmistakably lopsided gait of a certain Gregory House.